# 8 – Letter to Filmmaking Workshops for Women

Dear Filmmaking Workshop for Women Selection Committee:

            I was thinking about applying to your workshop a 2^nd time because I am starving to make a new film but the reality is you won’t accept it. Therefore, I will save myself the $100 application fee and the anxiety of filling out another basic application. I will not be applying for your fellowship this year.

When I first applied, I made the mistake of being honest in my application. I said that Allison Anders was one of my favorite directors and that her film Gas Food Lodging is what inspired me to be a filmmaker. At your open house, someone said they loved David Lynch and the collective response from the selection committee was that David Lynch would not get accepted into your film school today. I’m sure Allison Anders would not get accepted either but I submitted my application hoping my passion and my project would be of interest to you.

I was ecstatic when my friend Laura was one of the runners up. We met for dinner after her interview to celebrate her victory. I was sure she wowed you with her knowledge of Cassavetes and French New Wave not to mention the strength of her fantastic script.

She plopped in front of me like a deflated balloon at our favorite BBQ joint.

“It’s all bullshit” she said with a disappointment I’ve never seen or heard in our ten year friendship.

“What do you mean?”

She said that everything was going well, thought she had it in the bag until one of you asked what director’s success she wanted to emulate.  “Who did she want to be?” In true Laura fashion, she said she wanted to be herself and then you made her name the filmmakers she admired; “Goddard, Truffaut”  but the three of you shook your heads, looked at her with pity and asked her to try again.

“Think commercial success, don’t you want to be successful?” one of you asked.

“Yes I want to be successful, like Sydney Lumet, I mean he directed Serpico and Dr. Strangelove – success for me would be to direct without being pigeonholed, work in different genres.”

That’s as far as she got because one of you cut her off. “You can’t work in different genres, you need to pick one?” She knew she wasn’t getting in so she spoke her mind.

“I don’t want to pick one, I’m currently working on a comedy but my last film was very experimental. It’s hard to pick one thing when you’re starting out.” That’s the last thing she said when one of you politely ended the interview.

Your desire to turn female directors into the next Judd Apatow, are well intentioned, I guess. But you need to try harder because the films that get made during the fellowship are not winning any awards or getting into good festivals. Speaking of festivals, maybe you should take a cue from the programming department at your Film Festival. They curate a nice mix of diverse, commercial and experimental films from all over the world.

I will apply again when your selection committee has more diversity. Why are there two men and one woman judging the application process for a workshop tailored to women filmmakers? Perhaps you can expand your selection committee to include two or three programmers from your festival and at least one filmmaker, preferable a filmmaker of color.

Regards,

Lucy

PS – Laura directed a feature film she co-wrote, here is a link to Rich Kids.

https://www.seedandspark.com/fund/rich-kids#updates

PPS – I am going to make another short film this year

PPPS – Laura and I have kids now but we will continue to make films

# 6 – Pots & Pans

Nine years ago, I was living paycheck to paycheck in a fancy Brentwood apartment complex with a nice gym, tennis courts and a sparkling swimming pool. Our apartment was typical of West Los Angeles; ample living room with a counter separating it from the kitchen, a bedroom on each side of the living room, two bathrooms, cottage cheese ceilings, itchy beige rugs and a small balcony with sliding doors outside the living room.  Ours was not remodeled like the newer units and anything visible was mostly his; Star Wars posters and memorabilia were the main source of decoration with some musical instruments neither one of us played sprinkled in for variety. My books or anything that was mine was relegated to the empty bedroom/office space.

I was the only one who paid rent because I was the only one who worked. My ex thought he was going to be a rock star and refused to get a job because it would interfere with whatever it was he did during the day.

My rent then was more than my mortgage is now, granted, I live in Long Beach, hood adjacent by about four houses but it’s affordable and I get a tax break from Uncle Sam.  Unlike my ex, Matt has a good job and prefers to live within or below our means and that suits me just fine.  Now, I get to live well, keep money in the bank and save for important purchases or medical treatments not covered by insurance.

I like to shop, preferably on my iPad from the comfort of my Pottery Barn sofa.  It was one of the things that kept me temporarily sane during my battle with infertility.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve lusted after a 6 piece, Caribbean Blue, cast iron, Le Creuset cookware set.   You can get it at the outlet for around $600 instead of the $900 it costs for the more popular colors.

During the first five Christmases of my marriage, I took selfies with the pile of money I got from my bosses and parents. I arranged the bills in the shape of a hand held folding fan and sent the selfies with my Benjamins to my sisters so one of them can ask if this is the year I’m going to bite the bullet and buy my cookware set.

Every Christmas I drive to the outlet where I stand outside the store looking through the window, salivating over cookware like Holly Golightly outside of Tiffany’s. It causes me great anxiety that I can’t bring myself to spend the money on something I want so badly.  I imagine the roasts and braises I can to make and hope I can persuade myself to make the purchase but I always walk away before the impulse to buy it kicks in.

I know how to spend money so I don’t understand why I can’t bring myself to buy the cookware. Why am I so fickle when it comes to my pots and pans? Is it that now that I can afford it, I don’t have the need to own it? If that’s the case, why do I drive to the outlet every year expecting to make the purchase?

At first, it was because I had spent too much trying to get pregnant, then I got pregnant and it was about saving for the baby. Now the baby is here and I still want it but I would be guilty for spending so much money when I already have pots and pans. Money that can be put into her bank account.  I almost sent a friend to buy it for me thinking it would ease the guilt but then my inner voice told me that the fancy cast iron cookware will not make my sancocho taste any better.

I still dream about my Caribbean Blue dutch oven set. Maybe I will buy it next time I’m at the outlet or I’ll be happy looking at my reflection in the window seeing how far I’ve come.

# 5 – Hallmark Cards

My husband and I have been together almost eight years. In that time, we have not exchanged Valentines cards or any other romantic sentiment that you can purchase at your local drugstore, expensive stationery store, Hallmark etc. I gave him one birthday card when he turned the big 50 because the picture was cute; an illustration of a little boy blowing out the candles for his 5^th birthday.   I didn’t write anything in it.

I am of the strong belief that every day is love day in our house. My friends have made fun of me because “you sound like a guy who doesn’t want to buy his girlfriends a gift”.

I don’t want Matt spending money on roses or flowers on days when the markup is double or triple the regular price. I’m also not one to go out to dinner on said occasions either.

We are practical people who choose to show our love, respect and admiration with our daily actions.

•  A good morning text letting each other know we’ve made it to work, that now includes “Bebe has been dropped off” or “Bebe has been picked up”.

• A kiss before I leave for work, a kiss when he comes home, a kiss before bed. We still text “I love you” throughout the day.

• He does the laundry, cleans the kitchen, vacuums the floors and yard work. I clean the bathrooms, living room, bedrooms and Swiffer the floors.

• He lets me sleep late most weekends.

• He takes my car to get oil changes

• I cook

Matt has always been generous with me. It was easier for him to surprise me with presents when I lived alone in a sparse apartment. Our first Christmas he spoiled me with a sound system, a television and PJ Salvage pajamas.  I was pretty broke from my divorce and I didn’t have much money, I got him socks and a bike helmet.

Once we moved in together and my financial situation improved, we didn’t and still don’t do much in the way of gift giving to each other. Our idea of a perfect Valentine or birthday gift is to drive out of the city and going for a hike.  This year, our Valentines present to each other is the bathrooms remodel and of course, our baby.

***

By the end of the relationship with the ex I had collected two banker’s boxes worth of cards. They are sorted in folders by the years we were together and organized by month in each folder. The ex gave me two sometimes three or four cards for every occasion. New Years, Valentine’s Day, St. Patrick’s Day, Easter, my birthday, Halloween & Christmas. Each card contained a manifesto of his love for me and I reciprocated in kind. At first out of giddiness and then out of obligation. He would spend hours shopping for the perfect cards and additional time writing bad poetry and long letters. Reading these love notes became exhausting because there’s only so many ways you can say I love you when you think you’re a good writer but in reality your writing is full of adverbs and words you looked up in the thesaurus. Maybe it wouldn’t have been so taxing if he had treated me better.

As the years went on, the cards were often riddled with “I’m sorry for [fill in the blank]” followed by his justification and then blaming me for his behavior. Towards the end, I stopped giving him cards and stopped reading his cards.

After the divorce, I couldn’t throw them out. The boxes are somewhere in my garage. I’ve often toyed with the idea of stringing them together and making an exhibit out of them. I have fantasized about curating other love notes from abusive relationships and sending them out on a tour; Boxes full of love letters, remains of an abusive relationship.

We will be remodeling the garage in the next year. I don’t know what I will do with the cards when I come across them. I have no interest in reading them, I don’t want my daughter to find them.

***

We spent Valentines Day weekend shopping for tiles and fixtures for one of the bathrooms we are remodeling. This should have been done before the job started and not in the demolition phase. Little did we know that if you want nice things you can’t just go to Lowes or Home Depot and pick out what you want and have it delivered the same day. They don’t stock the good stuff advertised on their website so you have to order it without looking at it and hope what you get is up to par with what you saw online.  We took a day off from work, left the baby in daycare and went to the designer showrooms, they also don’t stock merchandise, but you can look at the floor samples and order from the manufacturer. Everything I pointed at took at least three weeks and was way over my budget. I asked for the local manufacturers, it still would take seven to ten days but the price was much cheaper and delivery was free.

Matt and I didn’t agree on a lot of things but we found a middle ground and are happy with what we purchased.

***

A house remodel, a move, having a baby are all things that can put stress on a relationship, especially if said relationship is rocky to begin with. I moved twice with the ex and each move nearly killed me. Matt helped me move from my first apartment post-divorce and we’ve moved twice in the time we’ve been together. While moving is stressful for me, having Matt by my side made me less anxious and it was nice to cuddle with him in our new home. We didn’t argue while we packed, our relationship didn’t suffer, unlike the moves with my ex.

The bathroom remodel came about because a local contractor we both liked became available at the last minute. The house was a mess, I was at my wit’s end trying to keep the house clean and then life threw a curb ball at me with the remodel literally taking place the day after I posted my essay about the reguero in my house. I had no time to prepare and I said “fuck it, I give up, I’m not in control. Once this remodel is done I will hire someone to clean the house.”

We are almost done with bathroom number one and will be moving on to bathroom number two sometime next week. We will be using this three day weekend to shop for bathroom fixtures, tiles and a vanity for the master bathroom. It was not an ideal way to spend Valentines Day but I’m going with the flow.

Having a supportive partner is the only way a control freak like me can function when life interferes with my plans. The best present Matt has given me is his support in everything from my writing to motherhood to a house remodel. I don’t need cards, I don’t need fancy dinners or  things, I can get those myself if I want to. The security of living with someone who has your back is to me, the most generous and priceless gift one person can give to another.

To be Continued.

# 4 – El Reguero

I’ve been trying to smudge my house since my daughter was born. I am a firm believer that your space needs to be immaculate before undertaking the ritual of space clearing. I did not have time to do a thorough house cleaning while I was on maternity leave. Contrary to what some people believe, maternity leave is not a vacation, you don’t have much free time because babies are a lot of work.

My husband is a chemist so the house was always laboratory spotless but now that we have a baby the house is for the most part, a mess – clutter everywhere; a baby swing, a little gym, a jumperoo, a high chair, a bassinet that functions more as a hamper/toy chest because my daughter sleeps on the bed with us, all in the middle of the living room.

The house is not up to our pre-baby clean standards. Since being back at work, neither of us has the time to mop the floors on a weekly basis. The priorities are; staying on top of laundry, a clean kitchen, a clean bathroom and changing the sheets and towels twice a week.

Now, there’s the stack of mail on top of the dining room table that needs to be sorted into piles; junk mail, important mail; to be filed; to be paid. Once the bills get paid, they move to the’ to be filed’ or ‘to be shredded’ pile. I have a load of documents that needs to be shred. If you’ve had the misfortune of credit card fraud or identity theft, you too will have a mountain of paper in need of shredding because throwing out even one envelope with your name on it fills you with anxiety.

Every room in the house can use a few hours of deep organization.  This is not something solvable with a cleaning lady. What I need is time to purge. To give away stuff, have a garage sale.  The house needs the full Marie Kondo.

When my friend Teri moved to Chicago she gave us her new sectional sofa. Matt has always wanted a sectional, I think they take up too much space. This one is three big pieces that closes off the living room and blocks off the nonfunctional fireplace that I decorated with whimsical pieces; mermaids, angels, Dominican Jesus.

Since I was a teenager, my adult goal was to live in the Pottery Barn catalogue.  When the sectional moved in, my PB sofa was temporarily moved to the garage. Matt wanted the sectional in the living room instead of the back room that is supposed to be the family room.  After four years in the house, the family room only gets used as a gateway to the back yard.

This need for an immaculate house is not about keeping up with the Joneses or para que la gente no diga. We rarely have people over. We live in Long Beach, a good 20-40 miles away from most of our friends in Los Angeles and my sister in the San Fernando Valley. Other than the obligatory Noche Buena party we don’t have many guests over.

My clean and clutter free house is for me to enjoy. It has to do with me being a control freak and also being one of four kids who never had her own room. A clean house that when my filmmaker friends come over and ask “can I shoot here?” makes me feel good. As a filmmaker, I know what a crew does to a house while they are shooting, my answer is always no.

The house used to be under my control because I had time to dedicate to it. I work forty five hours a week and spend about two hours a day commuting. Now, when I get home, my time is for my daughter.

I would love some flexibility at work. Like two days where I work four or five hours instead of nine. I’d be happy with a half day once a week or even every other week.

It is my controlling nature that makes me great at my day job. I’m an Executive Assistant to Masters of the Universe. I get paid very well to keep them organized and on schedule, it’s not something that can be done part time or half assed. I love my job, I love being in control but I would also love a little time to keep myself organized and on schedule.

***

The clutter is seeping into my relationship with my sister. I should be better about getting together, by the time the weekend rolls around the last thing I want to do is drive thirty plus miles to visit her. We made a date to meet at LACMA, the LA County Museum of Art. We were going to celebrate Matt’s and Ayden’s birthdays. Ayden, our Goddaughter was turning two. I stood my sister and her kids up! What kind of person stands up their two and four year old nieces! The girls were looking forward to seeing Hudson and to give Matt a present they had made for him. I slept right through the date, did not wake up until 11:00am and completely forgot to meet them.  I was so ashamed and disgusted with myself, I spent the week beating myself up about it.

I have to make some changes.

I will start with writing. As of now, I can dedicate my lunch time to putting together these weekly essays. I want to find two hours to work on my memoir on weekends because Matt is there to help.  There’s always something to do at home. A few weekends ago, I organized my daughter’s clothes that no longer fit her; I gave a lot away and stored what I want to keep for her. I sorted the clothes into two vacuum sealed bags; from new born to three months and from three months to six months. There went six hours of writing but now, I don’t have a giant bin full of baby clothes in the family room.

I can’t blame the not writing totally on the messy house. I have a flash drive with all the writing I’ve done in the last three years. It was not a functional system.  The work was categorized by workshop date so I had about twenty folders with four to eight pieces of writing.

I spent two hours today reorganizing my work. I created four folders in a new flash drive; Young Adult Memoir, Fertility/Trying to get Pregnant, Current Memoir, and Flash Pieces. I labeled each story by name and added what chapter I can find it in my memoir in progress. I also backed everything up into the cloud. The new system will make it easier to finish the second draft.

***

The essays on this blog are shitty first drafts at best. This is week four. I will continue to make time for this writing challenge of  #52Essays2017. Now that I’m back at work I am not able to take the weekly writing workshops so I need to stay accountable and generate work. I used to think that I didn’t have enough words in me to dedicate to weekly writing and to my memoir. Now that I don’t have time, I realize I have so much to say, so much I want to share. Little by little I will get there.

My daughter has already outgrown the swing and her baby gym. Those are now in the family room waiting to be stored in the garage in case one of the three frozen embryos turns into baby number two. Now, in the middle of the living room there’s a giant mat made of interlocking foam blocks with the letters of the alphabet in each block.  There is a baby fence around the mat so Hudson has room to crawl without hurting herself. At least Matt mopped the floor before he laid down the foam. I’m not going to be hard on myself about the baby stuff all over the house. I wanted this baby more than I’ve wanted anything in my whole life. I need to get used to the extra stuff that comes with that. I’m giving myself another two weeks, regardless of the state of the house, I will open up my windows, burn some sage and palo santo and invite new energy in and kick the old energy out.